


Real Real Sweet

by couchbarnacle



Series: Pave the Way Series [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitter!Sherlock, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid!Fic, Kid!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couchbarnacle/pseuds/couchbarnacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation to You've Got a Friend. The dinner!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Real Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry that it's been so long since I've updated! I was on vacay in Virginia!

“So, did you drive here or what?” John asked as they exited the coffee shop.

“I borrowed Mummy’s car,” Sherlock said.

“Does she know that you borrowed it?” John asked with a smirk.

Sherlock’s pleased chuckle sent a flare of warmth through John.

“I’ll just text Mum and let her know you’re coming,” John said pulling out a cell phone.

“Ask her if I can come,” Sherlock corrected, “It’s her birthday and I’m not exactly an upstanding pillar of the community.”

“That’s bloody true,” John said gruffily, “Can’t make a pasta to save your life.”

“That was never a part of the occupational description,” Sherlock defended, “How was I supposed to know that you don’t just cook the pasta in the sauce?”

“Because that’s something that everyone knows,” John countered.

“Nonsense,” Sherlock said, “Or else they wouldn’t have put the directions on the box.”

“Touche,” John smiled before pulling his phone out of his pocket, “Oh, great, Mum said yes.”

“So what are we making this evening?” Sherlock asked, leading John over to the car.

“Some pistachio/chicken gnocchi thing,” John shrugged, “Mum found the recipe online after eating it one time in Florence. She’s obsessed.”

John was just climbing into the passenger seat when he heard someone shout his name. He glanced up to see Tom striding over to them and realized he’d completely forgot that Tom was picking him up. Whoops.

“John!” Tom called again, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry,” John said honestly, “I forgot you were coming to pick me up.”

“How were you planning on getting back to the house?” Tom asked, confused.

“Oh, Sherlock was going to drive,” John said as the older man exited the vehicle from the other side and walked around to stand next to John.

“John,” Tom said, beckoning him away from Sherlock, “That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” John asked.

“Because,” Tom said, trying to sound reasonable, “He’s not someone that you should be associating with.”

“What does that even mean?” John asked, feeling irritation creep along his veins.

“John,” Tom sighed, “Please don’t fight with me. Now let’s go.”

“But Tom…” John tried.

“Fine,” Tom huffed, “He’s a drug addict! Now you know! Noelle wanted to keep it from you but I think you should know. He’s not a good influence and I’m sure that your mum would agree with me. We’re not letting you associate with someone _like that.”_

“Mum said he could come to dinner,” John said evenly.

“I highly doubt that,” Tom said, “Did you tell her that Sherlock was coming over or did you just say that a ‘friend’ was coming over?”

“I told her it was Sherlock,” John said, trying very hard not to roll his eyes.

“I doubt that,” Tom continued, “Your mother would never let him in the house…”

“Hello, Mrs. Hoyt!” Sherlock said into his mobile, “It’s good to speak to you as well...oh, I’m much better…that’s very kind of you…yes, I was just wondering if you wanted me to bring anything with me for dinner…bottle of wine, maybe a dessert of some kind…Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t actually force my attempts at cooking on you for your birthday…oh, your husband just arrived. Did you wish to speak with him?”

Sherlock held the phone out to John’s blustering stepfather with a blank expression, “It’s for you.”

John and Sherlock watched Tom take the phone and walked several dozen meters away before gesturing wildly and pacing back and forth across the parking lot.

“Gum?” John said handing a piece to the taller man as they leaned against Sherlock’s car and watched the show in front of them.

“Much obliged,” Sherlock replied, “Does this happen often?”

“Not really,” John shrugged, “But I’m not really here that often. A couple weeks in the summer and then the major holidays.”

“So, I seem to be the confounding variable in this situation,” Sherlock considered.

“You are a bit of a polarizing character,” John said helpfully, “Harry still gets twitchy whenever you’re mentioned.”

“Rightfully so,” Sherlock sniffed, “I’ll never forgive her for what she did.”

“Sherlock that was like six years ago,” John laughed, “I think we can put it behind us.”

“Hardly,” Sherlock said under his breath.

They watched Tom hang up the phone and take several deep breaths before standing up straight and walking jerkily back over to them.

“Well, Sherlock,” Tom said as if he was chewing on glass, “You’re more than welcome to join us for dinner.”

“Excellent,” Sherlock said with a plastered on grin, “Shall we go?”

“John rides with me,” Tom said quickly, “We’ll meet you there.”

John threw a knowing look over his shoulder at the taller man before trailing after his stepdad. They got in the car and they were about a mile away from the store when Tom cleared his throat, “I just want you to know, John, that I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know that,” John answered simply.

“And I have a hard time believing that Sherlock is a good influence on you,” Tom said.

“I’ve known Sherlock for years,” John answered.

“That may be the case,” Tom said, “But when people make bad life choices, when they are foolish and dangerous, parents have a responsible to ensure that their children aren’t exposed to that. It’s our job to keep you safe.”

“So are you saying that I shouldn’t interact with Harry?” John countered.

“That’s different,” Tom said firmly, “Harry’s family. You love your family no matter what.”

“But Sherlock’s like family too,” John said, “He’s one of the people I’ve known longest in my entire life. And I care about him and Mum cares about him. And he cares about us too. He’s family, Tom.”

“John,” Tom sighed heavily, “You’re so young…”

“But I’m not wrong about this,” John said vehemently.

Tom just sighed heavily before washing his hands of the whole thing. They arrived home shortly after that and John watched as his mum hugged Sherlock tightly for several seconds.

“I’m so glad that you’re okay,” She whispered fiercely into his curls.

Sherlock seemed at a loss for words for several seconds before leaning in to place a kiss lightly on her cheek.

“Well,” Mrs. Hoyt pulled back with a faint blush, “You, boys, better get your bums in the kitchen and make me dinner! On the double!”

That’s how, an hour and a half later, John’s family was gathered around the dining room table with takeaway pizza.

“I don’t know what happened,” John murmured glancing back toward the kitchen, “I followed the recipe…”

“Don’t worry about it, love,” John’s mum said firmly, “It’s the thought that counts and I love that you tried so hard.”

“But that’s not a real present,” John sighed, “What am I going to get you for your birthday now?”

“Clean up that disaster area of a kitchen, Johnny,” Mrs. Hoyt grinned, “And I’ll consider this the best birthday ever.”

“Ha bloody, ha,” John answered grinning before getting up to take some dishes into the kitchen.

The adults fell into a companionable silence as they heard John start to rinse the dishes off. Sherlock inwardly rolled his eyes at the constipated face that Tom was making. He was obviously dying to say something to him. His wife seemed to pick up on it and huffed quietly before smiling serenely at Sherlock.

“He’s missed you,” she said quietly, keeping her voice down so that her son couldn’t hear them over the sink.

“And I’ve missed him,” Sherlock heavily, “It’s been…a rough couple of years.”

“You left him,” She said evenly, “Not a word. Four years is a long time for a young boy. If I wasn’t such good friends with your mother, I would have thought you’d died.”

“That was never my intention,” Sherlock answered, “As I’m sure you’re aware, it was impossible to contact him while I was in treatment. But during my stay there, I was…disconcerted…by the person I’d become. I didn’t like who I was and I was too afraid to come back because I know that John wouldn’t have liked the way I had become. At first, it was a selfish act, but it shifted into one of protection. He should never have to see anyone like that.”

“Your mother says you’re doing really well,” Mrs. Hoyt said quietly, “How long do you think you’ll stay at home?”

“Hopefully not much longer,” He answered ruefully, “As much as I…acknowledge...the negative effect my actions have had on my family, we were never familiar enough for continued close contact to be a comfortable experience.”

“Any plans?” she asked.

“London?” he sighed heavily, “I’m currently at a loose end.”

“But you’ll try, won’t you?” she asked tentatively, “To stay in touch.”

“I promise,” Sherlock said firmly.

00000000000000000

“Well, thanks for coming,” John said. They were standing out on the front porch watching the sunset.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Sherlock answered, “And for…forgiving me.”

“I’m a bloody saint,” John said with a lopsided grin.

“Hardly,” Sherlock countered, “Does your mother know about those magazines you have hidden in your closet?”

He watched with smug satisfaction as John’s cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Git,” John murmured punching Sherlock lightly in the arm.

“Well, I’m off,” Sherlock said striding down the sidewalk to his car.

“Wait!” John called out chasing after him and tugging on his jacket to get him to stop. He hunched in on himself unknowingly and began scuffing the sidewalk with the toe of his trainer before murmuring, “Can I…I mean…would it be okay…can I have your number? Or your address or something…so that we can stay in touch?”

“Check your phone, John,” Sherlock said with a small grin, “I borrowed it earlier and updated my contact information. Phone me anytime but I prefer to text.”

John smiled brightly before ducking his head, “Thanks.”

“Stay in touch,” Sherlock grinned.

“You too,” John answered before turning to head back to the house.


End file.
